


Make-Up Sex

by eighth_chiharu



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighth_chiharu/pseuds/eighth_chiharu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy visits Hughes in the morgue. Requested by Pyro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make-Up Sex

It wasn't supposed to be like this. The empty, sterile room; the steel drawers lining the walls, reflecting the paint and tile until the drawers themselves seemed white instead of chromed; that damn drain in the middle of the floor. This wasn't how this visit was supposed to _go._  
  
"Can't you do anything by the book?" Roy muttered.  
  
Maes didn't answer. Couldn't have, even if he wasn't dead. His face was missing. Well... not so much _missing_ as _caved in_ , as if a black hole -- haha, that was funny, "black hole", because there _was_ a hole, a gaping one -- had opened up right where his glasses rested on the bridge of his nose and had started to suck his entire head inward.  
  
"If you'd just... you weren't supposed to be where you were, you ass."  
  
Roy slid out of his dark blue jacket and tossed it onto the neighboring examination table. It slid a bit, but stayed. He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his dress shirt.  
  
"And now what? Now I have to tell your wife and kid that you -- and they -- that you're not -- oh, _fuck_ you."  
  
The thing that could no longer rightly be called Maes Hughes didn't twitch at the cussing. The white sheet was still across its lower half. Only the chest and head were uncovered, ready for the coroners to finish their study. Cause of death: pretty fucking obvious.  
  
Roy had come into the morgue quite suddenly and ordered everyone out. There had been pitying looks exchanged before the few techs and one doctor -- not Knox, thank God, that man never would've left Roy alone -- had vacated, leaving the body exactly as it lay. Roy had locked the door behind them before moving their trays of evil-looking tools to the other side of the room.  
  
"I was waiting for you," he told the corpse. He pulled his shirt off, leaving just the white cotton undershirt beneath it, and draped it over the hideous wound on Maes' face. As soon as that awful incongruity -- the blood, the missing glasses, the lack of his ever-present smile -- was covered, things seemed to slide closer to normalcy. They had played games, after all, that had props like this.  
  
 _"C'mon, kiddo, you'll like it. It'll feel good, I promise. Have I ever lied to you? And look, if you panic, you can just reach up here, grab this part and pull, and the whole thing will come untied..."_  
  
Roy shook his head, and his fingers trailed over the rough sheet covering his friend's body. "Leave it to you, perverted old man..."  
  
He hesitated and shut his eyes. His imagination rushed in to fill the gaps. The nasty, medicinal odor of the room faded immediately, and Hughes' aftershave seemed to waft in. The chill of the refrigerated room became the cold of the training grounds up north, where he and Maes had shared a cabin for an entire wonderful week.  
  
He opened his eyes and pulled. The sheet slipped from Hughes' thighs and fell to the floor. Roy stared at the naked body he knew at least as well as his own, maybe better.  
  
Hughes was semi-hard in the flourescent lights.  
  
Roy snorted. "Horny fucker."  
  
It was a biological response, and somewhere inside of him, he knew that. A lot of people had orgasms at their moment of death. A lot of people looked ready for sex when all that had happened had been a horrible event farther from sex than anything could be. But now, when he'd been waiting so long, waiting for Hughes to get just a moment to come and visit, and had been promised...  
  
"You're not gettin' off that easy. I need you, you bastard." The room tried to turn icy, and Roy shoved the feeling away. This was not the time for grief. There was no grief here. There couldn't be. There wasn't any _time._  
  
"You owe me an apology. For your stupidity."  
  
Maes was silent again, but Roy was getting used to it.   
  
He stared at Maes' crotch again, and his own stirred inside his uniform pants. His hand went to his own groin, massaged there, lightly, and even Roy was surprised by how abruptly _ready_ he became. The hot itch of desire flooded his body, pooled like a weight in the bottom of his stomach, and suddenly he needed to be over Maes, _on_ him.  
  
"Don't act like you don't hear me." He climbed onto the steel table, forcing one of Maes' legs out to make room. The metal was cold and hard under his knees, and elicited no response from his victim. It was sort of like sneaking up on Maes when he was sleeping, ambushing him with a laugh, or carefully sliding into bed beside him and teasing him with coaxing fingers until, coming awake, there was no choice for the man but to do as Roy wanted.  
  
Well, there would be no choice _now._  
  
Carefully, Roy pulled a tube of petroleum jelly from his pocket. It wasn't their standard lube, but it was all he'd been able to find on such short notice. He opened it, not noticing that his hands were shaking, and squirted too much on his fingers.  
  
"Sorry," he breathed softly, looking at the shirt covering Maes' face, "but this is gonna be cold."  
  
He could almost hear Hughes' answering chuckle, see the offhand shrug. _Don't matter to me, sport. We're gonna warm it up soon enough, ain't we?_  
  
Roy smiled with half his mouth. "Yeah." He slid slimy fingers into the crevice between Hughes' buttocks, probing and preparing. The flesh was... odd. More resistant. Almost... "God, you're cold. Does this hurt?"  
  
 _Not as much as getting shot._  
  
"That's not funny."  
  
 _Nah, you're right, it ain't. Sorry. Forgive me?_  
  
"...okay." He wiped the remaining gel off on his slacks, capped the tube and tossed it to the floor. "Get ready."  
  
He undid his pants, pulled them down along with his boxers. His erection sprang free, hard and straining, practically reaching for Hughes' body. It always came as a shock to Roy how _hungry_ he was for Maes' touch, for his embrace.  
  
"I still fucking love you, you asshole." The words were broken up with short, scalding breaths, but Roy couldn't tell. "You left me, you _left_ me, and now --"  
  
 _I love you, too, Roy-boy. I'm really sorry. You believe me, don't you?_  
  
It was Roy's turn to be silent. He reached for Maes' legs and lifted them. "You're fucking heavy!"  
  
 _Bein' dead is kinda like havin' the flu. Not a lot of strength in me at the moment. You remember that?_  
  
Of course he did. "Yeah." Roy had been weak, exhausted from fighting the disease, and Maes had come to the apartment with soup and medicine, and what the bearded dork had called a "special injection."  
  
 _Then help me help you._  
  
Roy nodded. Something wet slid down one cheek, and he brushed at it irritably. "You don't mind?" he asked finally. He lifted the legs a bit higher, settling one on his own shoulder, and pulled Maes closer. His friend skidded on the metal table. "You don't mind?" he asked again.  
  
No answer.  
  
"I can't do it unless you tell me it's okay! Maes!"  
  
 _Just fuckin' with ya, kiddo. It's fine. I'd say I owe you some serious make-up sex for this one, huh?_  
  
Roy choked with relief. Maes' leg was hairy in his left hand, and pushing down on his right shoulder. He turned his head to kiss the bare knee, nuzzling it. "Yeah. Yeah, you do. You do."  
  
 _Then hurry it up. Don't make me wait._  
  
Did Hughes move? Shake his hips just a little? No... He was running out of time. The coroners would be back any moment. They'd want in. And they wouldn't understand. He had to say goodbye, had to give Hughes this last moment together, had to take what he'd been promised before anyone could interfere.  
  
With a quick jerk, he yanked Hughes the rest of the way and guided himself into his friend's tight place with his free right hand. One more shove, and he was in. He gasped, and more tears spilled free.  
  
Hughes was tighter than he'd ever been, so tight... and so horribly, awfully cold.  
  
Roy came twice.


End file.
